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“Papa,” she called as she came toward the bar. “What are you doing up there? These people are trying to drink their beer in peace.”
Richard Scarlett spun around, his kilt flowing around his legs, confirming that at least he was wearing long johns underneath. His graying dark hair flowed nearly to his shoulders, probably because she hadn’t trimmed it lately. He wore glasses with round lenses tinted pink, and had tattoos marching up his neck. They depicted a hawk on top of a pyramid on top of a turtle. If asked, he could talk endlessly about the meaning of those symbols to his personal worldview.
“I’m an entertainer,” he said grandly, gesturing with the accordion. “These people need me. Have you ever seen a crowd going apeshit?”
Next to her, she heard Billy snort at that Jay-Z lyric. This crowd couldn’t look more indifferent if it fell asleep.
“Papa, did you know it’s starting to snow? Want to come down and see?”
“Snow?” He stopped and sniffed the air. “I smell no snow.”
“You have to go outside to smell it. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Sometimes she wondered if growing up with her father had been good training for having kids. Distraction was such a useful tool.
“Who’s that there?” Her father peered behind her. “Is that Billy? Where ya been, Billy-boy?”
“Hey there, Richard,” Billy said.
“Someone help me down.” Richard marched to the end of the bar and handed his accordion to Archie.
Typical. Jenna could have predicted exactly how this would go. Billy to the rescue. But at least he was climbing off the bar now, helped by Archie and Billy.
“Thanks, Archie,” she murmured to the big bar owner as Richard huddled with Billy. “If he did any damage, I’ll cover it.”
He waved that off. “It’s not your responsibility. We’ll work it out. He painted a mural on my garage last year, I still get comments about it. He’s covered for another few months.”
“Well, thanks. And thanks for calling…well, Billy. But you can call me too, you know. Any time.”
Archie scratched at his beard. “I’ll remember that. I knew you were on the outs, so…I didn’t know you were with Billy, but that worked out.”
Oh dear. She’d better fend off any potential rumors right away. Lake Bittersweet loved to gossip. “Just a coincidence. As ex-spouses, occasionally we have business to discuss.” She caught his quick glance at her outfit, so different from her usual t-shirt and jeans. “I like to dress appropriately for that type of discussion.”
“Jenna, kiddo, you don’t have to explain a damn thing to me. Not about your dad, and not about your ex-husband.” He grinned at her widely, and she could have hugged him for his easy acceptance of…whatever. “Or about the two of them together.”
She glanced at them and felt her face heat. As Billy herded her father toward the exit, the latter kept breaking stride to jump in the air and click his heels together. It read more as leprechaun than rap star. Once again, she gave thanks for those long johns he was wearing. At least he wasn’t flashing all of Archie’s customers.
“Thanks again, Archie,” she said as she hurried after them.
How many times had she tried to clean up her father’s messes? Too many to count, that was for sure.
Every so often, the thought of escape flitted through her mind. There was a whole big world out there, and she’d never seen any of it. She’d been saving up for a trip around the world when she’d gotten pregnant. Now she had the boys to take care of—and her father, too. As difficult as he was, she’d worry about him too much if she left Lake Bittersweet. Ever since he’d told her to leave him alone until he finished his canvas, her anxiety had been amping up. This was the longest time she’d gone without reassuring herself that he hadn’t forgotten to eat or hydrate or shower.
No, the truth was, she was planted here in Lake Bittersweet, and she just had to accept that.
Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in a castle near a lake. And never left it?
Maybe, if things worked out with this contract, she’d be able to schedule a trip to Japan…then cross her fingers that it wouldn’t be derailed by some crisis involving her father or the kids.
It was ironic, really, because as far as she knew, her father never worried about her. Her concern for him was an entirely one-way street.
“That’s because he’s a narcissist,” Annika always said. “They only care about themselves.”
Jenna knew it was true, but it was hard for her to remember that because it seemed so impossible—how could anyone care only about themselves? It didn’t make sense to her, so she always ended up hurt by Papa’s self-centeredness. Or she’d make excuses for it. He’s a genius. He’s a great artist. He’s going to end up in the history books. He’s extraordinary and no one should expect him to be normal.
But as she got older, other thoughts would sneak in. Why are you making excuses for him? Did you choose another self-absorbed man to marry? How do you break the cycle?
Well, she had broken the cycle. She’d divorced her baseball star husband. She’d refused to make her entire existence revolve around him and his career and his off-field shenanigans. And she’d planted a big red flag in her brain. No more self-absorbed people allowed.
